


Ashes to Ashes

by CatFiends



Category: World Trigger (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22276216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatFiends/pseuds/CatFiends
Summary: Before the Aftokrator Away Mission, Kuga Yuuma is given the chance to save himself.He doesn't want it.In which Yuuma is stubborn, Osamu and Chika become mother hens, and Jin's probably not paid enough to deal with this.
Relationships: Kuga Yuuma & Amatori Chika, Kuga Yuuma & Mikumo Osamu
Comments: 11
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

*

At some point between first meeting one Kuga Yuuma and watching him walk into a speeding car then walk out like he hadn’t just _walked into a speeding car_ , Osamu had figured out that Kuga had a penchant for understatement.

See, that would’ve been fine, except that penchant for understatement also included things like car accidents, ludicrous sums of money, duckfaces and dying.

“They’re trying to use Trion to heal wounds?” Osamu echoed, hands braced against the table.

“Yep.” Kuga nodded across from him, all smiley-faced and calm eyes. If he pulls a duckface now Osamu’s not quite sure he won’t punch him.

“And there’s no guarantee that’ll work?” Chika asked beside him. She’s got her hands wound tight around her teacup, knuckles white. It’s mildly worrying, the teacup looks like it might break.

“Nope.” Kuga drank his tea. “Also I need to be in my original body.”

It’s really not fair that the one who’s _actually_ dying is also the calmest about this whole ‘we can try to save me but also that might just cause me to die now instead of later’ business.

When the silence starts to get a little awkward, amplified by the fact everyone in Tamakoma is standing around them with varying degrees of 'stunned' written on their faces, Kuga shrugs. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve still got some time to the mission.”

The mission. The Aftokrator Away mission. It’s a month and a half from now, and Osamu thinks that’s barely any time at all. Especially for something like this.

How could he not worry? This was Kuga’s _life_ they were talking about here.

Chika looks just as worried as he feels, her lips are scrunched tight against one another. Kuga blinks at them once, twice, then sighs. “Say it.”

“Eh?”

“Say what you’re thinking.” Toneless, gentle. Kuga’s lips curve up. It’s smaller than usual, a little less nonchalant. “We’ve all known each other long enough to speak plainly right?

Osamu’s brow crinkled. “I—” Of all times for his brain to fail, what kind of captain is he— “I feel like, it is your right, your decision in the end but there’s too many unknown variables to this.”

“We don’t even know how much time—” Chika cut herself off.

Hyuse, who’s sitting alone on a chair next to him and has been silent this whole time— almost as calm as Kuga, except for the slight furrow to his forehead— finally speaks up. He looks at Jin, who’s certainly more calm than he’s got any right to be (He is just _surrounded_ by unflappable types, why isn’t he one of them? He’ll like that.) and says, “You. You can see the future, can you see his?”

Jin’s face turns dark, Osamu decides he doesn’t like it. “I can’t see that far ahead.”

Hyuse looks at him, really looks at him. Jin doesn’t do anything but look back so Hyuse faces Kuga instead. “Is he lying?”

Kuga shrugs, “He’s not.”

Hyuse didn’t argue, “Do you have any indication, any clue on how long you have left?”

Subtle. The way Hyuse does it reminds Osamu of Illgars dive-bombing HQ.

The rest of the Tamakoma branch crowd in. Osamu feels more than sees Reiji and Karasuma bend in closer from their position behind the sofa. Konami is sitting next to Kuga and would have looked relaxed if she wasn’t about as tightened as a spring. Shiori leans against Konami’s side of the sofa, eyes hidden behind her glasses. Youtaro doesn’t look much better.

Osamu turns his eyes back to Kuga’s. He can’t quite catch them behind the white bush of hair, but he can see the smile drop. Kuga's hands are interlaced, one hand tracing the black ring on his finger.

“Not really, no.”

*

Dying’s cold apparently.

It hadn’t hurt, all he known was that it’d been getting hard to see in one eye, and when he’d looked down there was a hole where his stomach should be, and bone peeking out from the ragged ends of what was once his arm and leg. He’d been numb, it hadn’t hurt. He’d thought _Oh, I’ve been hit._

Then he’d fallen to the ground, and it’d been cold. So, _so_ cold.

Not exactly good material for small talk among friends.

That feeling stayed with him, a blizzard where his heart should be, ice in his bone marrow stabbing its way down his nerves. When his father had…done that, it wasn’t as cold anymore, but it certainly wasn’t warm either.

He tries his best not to think about it, what his dad must have felt. Taking all of your Trion, ripping it out of your own body? Forcibly putting it in something else? Turning into stone? Dust? Bones and sinew twisting into solid rock and then disintegrating? That couldn’t have felt good, it’d probably hurt, it’d probably been cold—

Don’t think about it, right.

Either way, he’s been left with a less than healthy temperature that’s gotten neither better nor worse in the past four years. He has no clue if his actual body will come out of the ring half-dead-and-quickly-dying or milliseconds-from-death-dying or just plain old dead.

He counts himself lucky to live as long as he has, what with being one foot in the grave and all. He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop for four years.

So when he’d been summoned to Border’s R&D section and told about this Trion healing thing, (The Trion Corrective Sphere, he remembers Kinuta saying.) His first reaction was to decline, because he’s dead, has been for a while. He’d opened his mouth—

_“Lend me your power, so we can help Chika find her brother and friend.”_

—and stopped.

In the end, he’d nodded politely, declined giving an answer for now and returned to Tamakoma where he’d broken the news to everyone. (Orders from the top, time for your teammates to adjust if you don’t make it, they’d said.)

He’d been lying on the roof an hour past midnight when the roof door had shuddered open. Jin greeted him with a packet of rice crackers, two cups of tea, and a smile that bordered more on ‘lies and deceit’ rather than ‘secrets and half-truths’.

“You’re up late.” He’d said, sitting up and accepting the tea. “Did you see something?”

“Yeah.” That was all he had to say about it apparently. “Decided what you’ll do?”

“Not yet.” Yuuma declined the cracker.

They sat in a relatively comfortable silence for a while. Yuuma counted the stars above them, wondered how many were Neighbours and how many were part of the ‘Solar system’ as Osamu had told him.

“You don’t happen to know when I might die, do you?

Jin’s smile turned a little more genuine, a lot more sad. “There’s a chance… at the end of the mission.”

Yuuma smiled, “That long huh.”

It’s not bad. It’s really not bad at all. Osamu and Chika were getting pretty good at this. Osamu took to strategy faster than he’d expected, and Chika was steadily taking steps towards being a prominent gunner. It wasn’t like he was the only attacker in Tamakoma, they would be able to find a substitute.

Jin's looking at him with an expression he can't quite read…except he can. He’s seen it before, on the faces of his older comrades back in Calvaria, the ones who had children. The same face Dad used to give him when he thought Yuuma wasn’t looking.

Yuuma decided to ignore it. “Jin-san, do me a favour and don’t tell everyone.” There’s no point in worrying everyone, especially before such an important mission.

Four years was enough. His dad wasn’t coming back.

“You know I can’t just agree to that.” Jin said, face blanker than Yuuma’s ever seen.

“I don’t want to worry them, especially before the mission.” He sipped the tea. It was bitter. “The Sphere is too unstable, there’s nothing saying it can definitely heal me, and even if it can I don’t know how long I can last outside the ring. Honestly speaking, it’s more of a risk than anything. At least as I am now, we know I’ll be able to fight and support them there.”

Jin’s still has that blank face on him but he can just barely see that glint that says someone’s listening. He’s logical like that, agreeable to numbers and probabilities even if he doesn’t like that he might have to throw someone under a bus, and Kuga’s rather grateful for it at the moment. “We’ve already been chosen for Aftokrator, and Hyuse’s definitely going to leave then. Aftokrator is completely alien to Osamu and Chika-chan. That coupled with them knowing about my future? It’ll be difficult to survive.”

Yuuma stared up into Jin’s blue eyes, “We can’t tell them that I might die after Aftokrator.”

Jin didn’t say anything for several seconds, merely looking at him. Then he sighed, and his shoulders slumped. Had he gotten through?

“You’re really a soldier, Yuuma-kun.” Jin smiled at him again, “Alright, I won’t.”

It wasn’t a lie.

He should have been reassured, so why wasn't he?

*

“Do you think he’s made up his mind already?”

The weather’s got a funny sense of irony. The sun’s shining down on them as they walk down the path, there’s not a cloud in the sky. In every sense of the word, it’s a perfect morning.

Doesn’t suit their mood at all.

“He’s pretty decisive.” Osamu replied, “This is a big decision though.”

He thinks of Kuga on cold starry nights, sitting out on the roof’s edge over the black sea. He thinks of Replica telling him to give Kuga a ‘purpose’.

_He’s not going to do it._

“I don’t think he’ll do it.” Chika says, mirroring his thoughts.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, the air’s thick and heavy even though it’s winter.

“You know…” Osamu starts, breaking the deal. The unspoken thing they’ve all decided not to talk about because Kuga didn’t like talking about his problems and Chika was similar enough to Kuga that it got uncomfortable. “He’s kinda just living, isn’t he?”

Chika hesitates, then nods. “He’s… I don’t think he really cares.” _About his death._ It goes unspoken.

They’ve both known it for a while. Kuga, for all his smiling and calmness, had given up on restoring his father almost immediately, like he’d never really believed he could. Had just as easily dedicated himself to their cause, like he’d been drifting along with life, with no goals or directions or dreams until he’d met them.

Like he didn’t have enough time— no, like he didn’t deserve to do anything he wanted.

“They’ll run Trion through a machine, infuse his wounds with Trion, and convert that Trion into actual cells to heal the hole in his stomach, and seal what’s left of his arm and leg. And it’ll take seconds.” Chika said in a daze, like she could barely believe it. Neither could Osamu. Such serious injuries in _seconds_?

Trion was incredible, if this worked, it’ll be big. The implications for the machine were huge; warfare, hospitals, illnesses, even old age and immortality. If Trion could replace cells, a whole new world of science would be opened up.

“But if it doesn’t work—” Osamu swallowed, “Kuga could— Kuga will die.”

One step. Two steps. Three.

“What do you think he should do Osamu-kun?”

“It’s risky. It’s too risky, we don’t know if he’ll outright die if we took the ring off, we don’t even know if he’ll last in the machine, or if it’ll take too long to heal him. If we wait abit longer and they improve it, make it more stable, his chances are better. But if we don’t try it—” Osamu swallowed. “—we don’t know how long he can still last.”

God, why didn’t they know how long? He’s about as helpless as that time with Chika and her brother, it’s like all his training, joining the border, _everything_ , had changed nothing. He was still so damn _useless._

“Chika-chan, what do you think about this?” He asked instead of dwelling on it.

“…We should try it.”

Osamu stared at her, surprised, and Chika turned to look at him, “It’s uncertain, and scary, a-and he might—” She shook her head hard, “There has to be a way to make it less dangerous right? Maybe use my Trion?”

Osamu frowned, “Chika-chan—”

“Hey Four Eyes! Chika-chan!” The yell came from behind them, and they both turned to see Jin walk up. His right hand was shoved into his pocket, his left facing them in a wave, an innocent smile on his face.

Jin’s many things, innocent is not one of them. Osamu tried not to let his eyes narrow.

_Does he know something?_

“How’re you all doing?”

“We’re okay. You’re here early, Jin-san.” Chika replied. Jin grinned at her.

“Well you know me! Power elite’s gotta wake up early sometimes too, even though we work so hard.” He sighed dramatically. “So, any thoughts on the Trion Sphere?”

And just like that the mood plummeted again.

“We don’t think he’s going to try using it.” Osamu rubbed his temple, “I’m not really sure we should try it either, it’s so risky.”

“I think we should.” Chika cut in, violet eyes suddenly bright with something Osamu’s hardly sees. It’s something that only comes up when they talk about finding her missing brother or friend. “Jin-san, could you ask Kinuta-san if using my Trion will stabilize it more?”

Jin blinked at her, “I’ll ask sure, but I should warn you, Kinuta-san’s probably already thought about it. If he didn’t mention it, it might mean it won’t work.”

“It’s better to make sure anyway, thank you Jin-san.”

“Hey, no problem, I’m your senpai afterall.”

They were almost at Tamakoma, Osamu could see the building’s silhouette against the sun. Jin’s hands were in his pockets, eyes closed with a soft smile, looking like he hardly had a care in the world.

“Jin-san, do you think Kuga should use the Sphere?”

Jin’s expression never changed. “It’s his decision in the end, is what I think. It’s his life, and his choice, we have to respect that.”

Then the smile dropped, and piercing blue orbs swung to meet his gaze. “I’ll tell you one thing though. If something happens, stick close to him, alright?”

Osamu wanted to question him. Wanted to shake him hard and get him to spill whatever he knew. Jin’s got secrets on half-truths and thousands of futures plotted out behind that gaze. It’s how he’d manipulated Hyuse into joining, how he’d managed to get Kuga into border in the first place.

He thinks of the apologies Jin gave to his mother, to Chika-chan. His taking of responsibility of the loss of Replica in the invasion. Of giving up Fujin to keep Kuga safe.

Osamu nodded firmly, and Jin gave him an actual smile.

*

Inside, Kuga waves them over from his seat on the sofa. They settle onto it beside him as he stretches, pulling his arms behind his back and yawning like a cat. Osamu scans the room, finding it oddly empty.

“Where’s everyone?”

“In the training room, Konami-senpai is fighting Reiji-senpai. The others went to watch.”

Kuga blinks at both of them, scanning both of their faces and raising an eyebrow.

“You two were up all night thinking about it, weren’t you?”

Chika’s hands are curling in her dress, scrunching the material up. “Did you decide already?”

“Yeah.” It’s said nonchalantly, like he’s talking about the weather. “Not doing it.”

“You’re not—?”

“I’m not.”

Osamu frowned, “Kuga… Aren’t you being a little hasty?"

“It’s a prototype, and they’re asking if I want to be a test subject because my circumstances are perfect for testing it and the fact that I’m a Neighbour lets them wave it off if it fails.” Kuga’s eyes have gone dull. “We’ve only got so much time left before Aftokrator. I’ll rather not risk it till after the mission.”

It makes sense, it really does. They should wait. The development of the machine was still so early, if they just waited it’ll become more stable, and R&D was notorious for how fast it was at innovation. If they tried it after the mission and it failed, at least Kuga would be able to see Replica again first.

_So why do I have such a bad feeling…?_

“Osamu. Osamu!”

Osamu blinked at the hand waving in his face, Kuga smiled at him. “Seriously, you worry too much. You’ll get wrinkles before you’re twenty at this rate you know.”

 _Don’t do that._ Osamu wanted to say. He was always doing that, smiling or smirking it off, completely unflappable and uncaring in spite of whatever danger was in front of him. Especially when the danger was most so to himself. _Why are you doing that?_

His throat tightened, and Kuga’s grin seemed to falter abit. Chika was frozen next to him. What was he doing? Here he was the captain, and instead, his teammate's the one comforting him. Why was he so weak?

"Guys." Kuga’s smile softened into something more genuine, his eyebrows tilting upwards. “Guys, it’s okay."

"Let’s just focus on getting to Aftokrator, alright?”

_Don’t do that._

And that’s when the explosions started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any comments or suggestions on how to improve are appreciated \=owo=/  
> This fic's focusing mostly on the main trio, and is probably going to be different from canon, since when this was written we don't know when exactly the first Away mission the trio will be going on is. Here I've set it so it's about a month and a half away after they win the last fight in the Rank wars. Also this fic is after Yuuma's already told everyone at Tamakoma about his death situation, which I might write in a prequel fic to this though I'm not sure. ^^"'  
> I've written out both chapters after the first one already, though I need to do a ton of rewriting. The next chapter should be out hopefully around the end of this week.


	2. Chapter 2

*

Once his ears stop ringing Osamu registers that there’s a second sound— the alarm for the Neighbour gates as the rest of the seniors come bursting out of the training room and down the hallway.

“Multiple neighbours heading in this direction, HQ scrambling both units!” Shiori barks out, one hand on her Border headset as she enters behind Karasuma, Reiji and Konami. He struggles to keep pace behind them, already throwing themselves through the garage door and into one of the cars as Youtaro passes out communication devices. He grabs one, shoves it into his ear, and sprints over to the second car where Jin is climbing into the driver’s seat.

Kuga’s right behind him, bounding over the car’s open frame and landing square in the middle seat while Chika and Hyuse get in like normal people. Osamu himself is beside Jin, who grins approvingly at Kuga— _Don’t encourage him—_ before he slams down on the accelerator and they rocket out of the garage. In the distance he sees—ten, twenty gates? More?

“Usami-chan! How many?” Jin yells over the wind.

Over the radio, there’s the sound of a furiously clacking keyboard before Shiori replies, “34 neighbours! Tamakoma-1 to handle the twenty-four on the left of the highway you’re both driving on, Tamakoma-2 and Jin-san to take the right!”

There’s various confirmation replies, and Osamu just barely sees the car ahead swerving left before Jin throws their car into a hard right spin and he has to scramble for a grip on the car’s frame.

When they reach the scene, Osamu scans the horizon and sees three Marmods, five Bamsters, three Vanders, and one Illgar. It’s no Aftokrator invasion, but the numbers make him worry anyway, especially with how close they were to the edge of the forbidden zone.

Jin’s got a broken-hearted look on his face. “Hm, that’s disappointing.”

“Eh?”

“Alright you four,” He slaps Osamu’s back lightly, grinning like he’s talking about angry kittens, “I’ll get the Illgar, you guys get the rest.”

“Eh?!”

“Go on! It’ll make good team practice.” With a light push, Jin shot off towards said Illgar. “I’ll leave it to you!”

“That— what—” Osamu splutters.

_If something happens, stick close to him, alright?_

…Oh.

“Captain, orders, now.” Hyuse reminded him. Right.

There’s three Bamsters and a Vander grouped close together with the rest scattered across a moderately-sized area. He could already see the Vanders twisting in their direction, attracted by Chika’s Trion. Alright. “Hyuse, take care of the two Vanders. Chika-chan, stay low for now, if you go up too high the Vanders will shoot at you. Try to hit the Marmods but make sure you aren’t in sight of the Vanders. Kuga, that group over there with the Bamsters, we’ll deal with them, I’ll act as bait so they stay together. If anyone’s free, support the others.”

“Roger.” And they spread out. Kuga bolts forward with grasshopper, and Osamu sees him dodge a shot from the Vander, leaping upwards and streaking forward in mid-air. Warmth burns against Osamu’s face as its mouth boils with a second shot, and Kuga drops a grasshopper on his own back, aiming it so it sends him towards the ground as it shoots. He misses it by inches, bounds forward towards the Vander’s legs, and in four neat leaps, chops all of them off.

Osamu meanwhile is still climbing to the top of a building and frantically summoning up hound. He lets it loose at the three Bamsters. It’s nowhere near enough to destroy them, but it catches their attention. There’s a loud shaking thud that tells him the Vander’s just hit the ground, and he barely catches the tail end of Kuga cutting right through its head with a solid uppercut.

He sends another blast of Hound at the Bamsters before a flash of white to his right says Kuga’s landed on the rooftop. Then he’s gone, shot off like a bullet towards Bamster number 1. He gets behind its head and cleaves it right off before digging his Scorpions into the Bamster’s front and gutting it neck to chest. Then he twists on his ankle, faces the second Bamster, pounces to the left and forward to avoid a blow and does the same thing he did to the first one.

Osamu’s seriously feeling incompetent right now.

The third one shouldn’t be a problem, Kuga’s already readying his third blow. He jumps up, pulls his Scorpions up and— hold on—

_Something’s wrong, he’s faltering—_

He’s falling fast, there’s a loud thud over the radio, a breeze of dust expanding around him.

“Kuga?!”

No response, a white-haired body on the ground, unmoving— the Bamster’s getting closer, opening its mouth. Shit, he wasn’t going to make it—

Something like lightning blasts through the air, it takes him a second to realize it’s Chika shooting the Bamster. She’s yelling something in his ear—

“Osamu-kun, Is Yuuma-kun—”

And he’s sprinting forward, ducking under debris and pulling out of a half-slide to stop at Kuga’s body. Kuga is—

Deadly pale, eyes closed and aside from a few scratches leaking Trion, completely uninjured.

_What?_

“Osamu-kun?!”

“He’s fine—” Kuga wasn’t injured, the Bamster hadn’t managed to attacked him, so why— “How many Marmods left?”

“Just one—” He hears Chika shifting her gun, and there’s the sound of another explosion somewhere when she shoots. “Done!”

“Done here too.” Hyuse’s voice comes up over the radio. “What’s wrong with Kuga?”

His heart’s thundering in his chest, he can hear it in his ears as he pulls his friend up, “I don’t know, he wasn’t hit—”

_If something happens, stick close to him, alright?_

Oh. Oh god no.

“We need medical assistance now!” He starts running back towards the car, “Kuga’s out!”

Jin’s voice comes over the radio, uncharacteristically grim. “Regroup at the car, we can check what’s wrong at HQ.”

The next few seconds are a blur, him carrying a deadly still Kuga as he races back. He sees Hyuse and Chika landing near it, and Jin’s already in the driver’s seat. Chika pulls the door open for him and he’s places Kuga in, diving into the front seat while the others hold Kuga steady in the back.

“Hm?”

They all freeze. Red eyes blink at them wearily. Kuga sits up, a confused expression on his face.

“…When did we get in the car?”

*

“He fainted.” Osamu repeats disbelievingly.

“He fainted.” Jin agrees.

They’re all crowding one of the rooms at HQ after the doctor, one of the ones working on the Sphere, gave Kuga a checkup and an all-clear. Couldn’t find anything, he’d said, except for the clammy hands that all of them waved off as normal for Kuga. They only figured out what had happened when Kuga told them that he started feeling numb in the back of his spine when he was taking out the second Bamster, and then he’d started seeing stars in his eyes as he lost control of grasshopper before he blacked out.

“Didn’t know I could faint.” Kuga’s face screams nonchalance, sat on the chair with his legs crossed.

Osamu starts to tell him that doing that’s rude but what comes out is; “You fainted. In midair.”

“Yep.”

“Without being hit.”

“Yep.”

“So there’s no reason you should have fainted.”

“…I did skip breakfast this morning?”

“Kuga.” Osamu stands up, moving so he’s right in front of the other. He towers over him, and Kuga looks exceedingly small on the chair. “Please, tell us what’s going on.”

Kuga stays quiet for a worrying long moment. His eyes are narrowed, a shadow over his face. There’s a quiet rustle as Chika stops at Osamu’s side, “Yuuma-kun, please.”

He’s still staring at them, and Osamu’s not sure if it’s pity or that respect for honesty Kuga has that rewards them with a sigh. “Didn’t think I’ll be able to hide it long anyway… I’m honestly not sure, but Replica did come up with some theories.”

“This body’s running on Trion taken from the ring, while my real one’s in this.” He gestures to his ring. “If I took the ring off, he thinks I won’t just revert back to my real body unless I decide to. I’ll still be able to use this body using whatever Trion I’ve got left, but once I’ve run out… Replica thought I’ll go into this ‘sleep mode’, I’ll be knocked out until I get another Trion supply. And without the ring, I can’t send nutrients to my real body through this body so that wouldn’t last that long anyway.”

…That was a lot to unpack.

“Then you fainting... was you going into sleep mode?” Chika tilted her head.

“Probably yeah.”

“But you aren’t separated from the ring.”

Kuga didn’t answer, his finger tracing the curves of the ring. He looked unsettled.

A shiver went up Osamu’s spine, if Kuga was going into sleep mode with his ring, then it wasn’t the Trion supply that was the problem here.

So it had to be—

_That’s— but it’s so soon—_

“You’re running out of time.” Osamu breathed.

Too fast, too sudden, how’d he missed this? How long did Kuga have left?

“You have to use it.” He whipped his head towards Chika. Her voice was fragile, he could just barely see her trembling. “The machine Yuuma-kun, it could heal you right?”

“If we go to them now, we can have them prep the Sphere soon” Osamu followed. “If we ask now—”

“Osamu. Chika-chan.” Kuga stops them both. He looks up at them, face blank. “I’m not using it.”

_What?_

“I already decided I’ll wait till after the mission, even if I use it now there’s no guarantee I’ll survive or if it’ll affect my ability to use Triggers.” Kuga shook his head, “In my current state at least we know I’ll still be able to fight on the mission.”

“You just fainted on the battlefield and you still say you can fight?” Hyuse cut in, doubt colouring his tone.

“We’re the only close-range attackers on this team, the away mission will definitely involve us fighting, and you’re planning to leave and try to find your master.” Kuga’s eyes were piercing, sharp daggers pointed at Hyuse. “I have to be there.”

Hyuse’s frown deepened, but he didn’t refute.

Chika bit her lip. “But waiting till after the mission is so…”

“Hey.” Kuga smiled at her, at both of them. “Have some faith in me, I won’t keel over yet. Pretty sure I’ll last through the mission.”

They sunk into silence again. At some point, Jin carted Hyuse out of the room, telling him to “give them some space”. The chair’s metal frame felt like ice against his arms. He pulled them forward so his elbows rested against his thighs instead, hands intertwined.

He’d promised himself he would help Kuga see Replica again before he died.

_But what about after that?_

There was a hollow cave in his stomach, deep and empty, made his heart shudder in his chest. They didn’t have time left, It was so fast, it was so _damn_ fast, _what the_ _hell could they do?_

“Then we won’t go to Aftokrator.”

He whipped his head up to see Chika staring Kuga down. Her eyes looked watery yet certain, she stood tall like a statue, hands pressed to her sides. Kuga stared at her like he hadn’t heard it right, eyes blown wide.

“Wait— what?”

“We won’t go to Aftokrator.”

“Chika-chan, you agreed to go and supply the Away mission’s Trion supply.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to go. Or I won’t help them, whichever one.”

“Your brother and friend—”

“You’re my friend too Yuuma-kun!”

Something behind that red had shifted. Had looked like the sun itself had spilt in half. For one single moment, Kuga had looked like the 11 year old his body was.

That look (Vulnerable, utterly foreign on Kuga’s face.) was locked behind an unreadable façade mere seconds later, but Osamu knew what he had saw.

He’d always known, beneath that smile, Kuga had simply been existing, walking with little direction or following others. Had always had this feeling that Kuga was far too ready to die.

And that scared him. Kuga walked into cars, was weird, didn’t understand the concept of money, made far too many duckfaces, fought like a beast and was also a good person. A person who cared about others, about people like Osamu and Chika who had done nothing but ask and ask and he owed Kuga far too much but above that all?

Kuga was his friend.

If Kuga really wanted to die, if it really was because his dad was gone and he felt he had nothing to live for, what could Osamu say?

He didn’t know. Felt like he was waddling in a deep lake searching for something he wasn’t sure of. What could he say?

“Kuga.” He swallowed, throat dry. _“We care about you.”_

His friend had stared at him, stared at both of them. Osamu couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“If you don’t go now, you’ll lose your chance to get to Aftokrator.”

“We know.”

“It’d be a long time before it comes into orbit again.”

“We know.”

“You might not get the chance to see them anymore.”

“We won’t get to see you again either.”

Kuga breathed out, slow, steadily. “You two haven’t been sharing notes on being too nice, have you?”

Chika lips broke into a small grin and Osamu’s mouth quirked up. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“You guys really are troublesome.” Kuga own face turned into a resigned smirk.

“Alright, I’ll try it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really feel satisfied with this one to be honest^^"'  
> This chapter's really speculative, with alot of guesswork about how Yuuma's Trion body will act the closer he gets to death. The thing about him going into sleep mode comes from a tweet by the mangaka, and I just guessed that maybe as Yuuma runs out of time he might have difficulty maintaining the connection between the ring and his Trion body, which results in all the fainting. The way this was tied up in the end could probably be better>.<"'  
> Any suggestions and thoughts are appreciated ^^ Last chapter should be up by the end of next week, or maybe a little longer.


	3. Chapter 3

*

“Did you foresee this?” Yuuma would ask Jin later, when they were back in Tamakoma.

“Only the Trion soldiers.” There’s a passive grin on Jin’s face.

“You’re a bastard you know that?” Yuuma looked back at him, voice without aggression. “You knew I was gonna faint that day.”

“Heh, I’ll take that as a compliment.” His senior laughed, leaning easily against the edge of the roof.

Yuuma’s eyes traced the constellations of the sky, “Why were there so many Trion soldiers anyway?”

“Probably some overzealous Aftokrator house trying to slow us down.” Jin shrugged. “So, HQ again in the morning?”

“Yeah, the doctors are coming in tomorrow. They’ll examine me first so they can prep it properly.”

The sea was a blue-black against the sky, shifting in ways he’d hardly seen in other Nations. Jin bit into another cracker.

“What’s the chance of your Foresight telling you what will happen when I use it?”

“Who knows?” Jin was still leaning back against the wall, head tilted towards Yuuma. “It’s kinda picky about what it lets me see. I can guess the probability though.”

“And it’s?”

“60 percent survival.”

…Not bad. Not great. But not bad.

“It used to be 30 percent.” Jin says with his eyes closed.

“Hm.” 60 percent really wasn’t too bad. More than he deserved.

Why was he so apprehensive?

“You’re worried aren’t you?”

 _Not really._ He’d almost spouted it out, except…

That glimmer in Chika’s eyes when she’d said he was her friend. The same thing behind Osamu’s glasses…

It’d clicked then. Took him a while to figure it out, but it’d clicked then.

_Damn._

_I can’t hurt them like that._

“I’ve been dead for a long time, and I couldn’t find a way to revive dad so I couldn’t bring myself to care but...” His voice trailed off.

Nothing had changed. The machine might not heal him. His dad was still dead. Replica was still gone. He still didn’t know what to do with the time he had left outside of helping his friends.

_But I can’t hurt them like that._

Quietly, more to himself than Jin, Yuuma whispered, “That machine had better work.”

*

The doctors had in fact heard from Jin (who’d told Kinuta-san) about Chika’s Trion and apologetically said that although they wouldn’t refuse her offer, the amount wasn’t the problem, but the accuracy and ability to change that Trion into cells. Chika had accepted it with a resigned expression that made Kuga pat her gently on the shoulder.

‘It’s okay.’ That pat said.

Chika hadn’t looked happy about it. He understood it, especially with what they were hearing from Kuga now.

“I was in shock so I’m not sure how accurate my memory is. There’s a blank between getting them and me lying on the ground.”

The doctors have mild worry on their faces. The main one, a kindly looking old man shifts his glasses up his nose as he takes notes.

Kuga is seated in a cheap plastic chair, finger curling around the ring. He looks as unfazed as ever. “I know there was a hole in my stomach.” He gestures to the left side of his body, drawing a rough circle around the area with a hand. “And my right arm and left leg are gone from the mid-joint down.”

He pauses for a second, tilts his head, and finishes, “Oh yeah, and I think I lost my left eye. It was getting hard to see.”

It’s unsettling how he just says it like it happened to someone else. Replica’s told him about how badly injured Kuga was, but seeing him say it…

He tries to picture those wounds in his head. Tries to see Kuga sitting in the chair without one eye and two limbs, with a large gaping hole in his stomach.

He tightened his trembling fingers against a nearby desk.

The old doctor—Tanaka-sensei— takes it in stride. “I understand, and you felt cold?”

“Cold and numb. I was bleeding out pretty quickly.”

“I see. Thank you for that. You’re brave for telling us about it.”

Kuga didn’t quite pout, though he looked rather close to doing it. Osamu’s suddenly reminded that Kuga’s a Neighbour who grew up amongst war, who’d probably gotten used to massive injuries and death at some too-young age. It doesn’t help that his shoulders— hell, his entire torso is smaller than the chair.

Tanaka-sensei keeps going, “We’ll need two days to get everything ready using your measurements. During the procedure, your teammates and mentors will be able to view the operating room from behind a glass window.”

They all nod and the doctor smiles warmly, “That’s all for today then, make sure not to eat before the surgery, and arrive at 8am.”

*

The doctor’s words are all well and good, except the universe decided to screw them over on the actual day.

Osamu and Chika had stuck to Kuga’s side like glue for the past day, and the morning of they’d stuck even closer. Osamu’s pretty sure they’re three nanometers away from turning into a superglued sandwich.

He thinks they’re justified. This morning had been a real mess. They had been sitting on the sofa when Kuga had walked in with that stupid duckface of his and a half-raised greeting when he’d suddenly gone pale and fallen.

That almost-faint was bad enough, then he’d proceeded to give everyone a heart attack because his hand decided now was the time to go through a sofa.

Right through it. Like a ghost.

It’d sent everyone in the room into a full-blown panic for five minutes as it solidfied. (Just how fast was he running out of time? There’s no way Kuga can fight on Aftokrator like this, no matter what he says—) Then they’d spent the next hour fussing over Kuga. Osamu himself took up a whole half of it.

Now they’re walking down the pasty white façade of Border’s hallways and it’s reminding him too much of a hospital to be comforting. It doesn’t help that they’re essentially walking towards the surgery room with a terminally ill patient.

The walk feels both too long and too short, his footsteps felt heavy, echoing in the tense silence as he and Chika led the walk down with Kuga, everyone else shadowing them from behind. The looks from the passer-bys tell him they look like an odd funeral procession.

His face is tracking sweat and his nails dig into his palms. There’s a cold pit in his stomach and this unshaking worry in the back of his mind and he wonders when exactly someone decided to make the AC compete with Mount Everest.

Or maybe he’s just scared.

Kuga certainly doesn’t look like he is. Everyone looks like they’re about to die and Kuga has his arms behind his head and a duckface scrawled on his face. He’s got a feeling it’s more for their benefit than his own.

Just as he’s thinking that, red flickers towards him. “Osamu, you’re thinking too much again.”

"Sorry." He replies automatically, and Kuga's pout, against all laws of physics, manages to deepen by a factor of five.

"Don't apologize, you really worry too much."

On the contrary, Osamu thinks if there's a time to worry, now's a great time.

It must have shown on his face because now it’s a factor of ten. "Nothing I say is going to make you stop huh."

"I need to make up for your attitude."

"Hm? What attitude?"

"Your..." He can't quite remember the word, blei, no bale-- what was it? "Your... blasé attitude."

Kuga raised an eyebrow, "What's that mean? Sounds like boiled vegetables.”

_How do you even get that kind of conclusion?_

“That’s blanched, like um, blanched vegetables.” Chika corrected. Ah.

…No. Still doesn’t make sense.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, and slowly break out into subdued smiles. Kuga pats both of their shoulders and continues walking.

“Think you all need more sleep, none of what we just said made sense.”

“Clearly.” Osamu agreed, holding back a sigh. When he steps forward, his heart is just the tiniest bit lighter.

They reach the room. One of the nurses hands Kuga a hospital gown and shuffles him behind a curtain to change. When he steps out, it just barely swings above his feet. Konami immediately starts ribbing him about being a shrimp.

“I’m not a shrimp.” Kuga doesn’t even sound annoyed. He’s doing the duckface again.

“Sure, midget.” Karasuma replied. Konami grinned, and the two start discussing Kuga and the intricacies of shortness and speed, then it spirals into how much power having two pieces of ‘idiot hair’ can give a person over one, with Chika and Konami as case examples. Kuga starts adding his own opinions, specifically about glasses and how those throw the power levels right out the window. And now Usami is joining in.

…Right then.

He’s half-certain it’s their way of dealing with it, because that whole discussion had in fact managed to distract him, at least until Kuga stands in front of the operation room’s door.

 _This might be the last time I see him._ The thought smacks him in the face.

Youtaro jumps into his arms and cries into his chest until Usami pulls him away so he doesn’t leak all over the gown. Usami herself had a smile that’s just the tiniest bit fragile when she gives Kuga a long hug that startles him, and then he quietly returns. Reiji and Karasuma give him a proper salute, and when Reiji says “Make it through.” Kuga nods firmly. Hyuse looks uncharacteristically unsure, before he hesitantly raises a fist which Kuga bumps with a smirk. Konami drags him into a headlock he doesn’t try to fight, pouting when she drives her knuckles into his head hard, telling him to get his ass in gear and wake up later. Jin doesn’t even say anything, just pats his head with an unreadable smile as something passes between the two. Kuga smiles back.

Then it’s his and Chika’s turn.

“So.” Kuga starts.

“This is it.” Chika doesn’t meet either of their eyes, hands twining themselves with one another.

“…Yeah.”

Osamu doesn’t know what to say. None of them do. It’s ridiculous considering just _how much_ there is to say. There’s so much Osamu owes him, and he doesn’t know how to express everything in just the mere seconds he has before he enters the room—

“Hey. Thanks. You know, for everything.”

His eyes whip up to meet Kuga’s whose face is kind, with a genuine, truly real smile, he looks at both of them and Osamu suddenly notes with a start— he can see everything. For once, he can read everything in those eyes.

“It’s been fun.”

“I should be thanking you.” _For everything._ He can’t bring himself to say.

The lopsided grin says Kuga gets it. “We’ll call it mutual then.”

His throat’s so dry, his hands shake behind his back. He can’t seem to meet Kuga’s eyes. Shit. Why can’t he do more? Why isn’t there anything he can do? “You… come back alright?”

Kuga nudges him with a rough elbow and he has to hold back a yelp. When he looks up Kuga’s still smiling at him.

“I’ll try my best.”

When he blinks there’s suddenly small arms around both of them. A group hug, he realizes, one Chika’s initiated and he finds himself returning it almost reflexively, leaning against their encompassing warmth as she whispered. “We’re doing this together.”

“Mm.”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t know how long they stand there hugging each other before they finally let go. He pulls away reluctantly as Kuga raised one hand, stepping back and pushing the door open with the other.

“See you later, Four eyes, Chika-chan.”

“It’s Osamu, shrimp.”

His best friend smirked and stepped through the door.

*

It’s called the Trion Corrective Sphere, but it’s not so much a sphere as it is a glorified MRI machine. A metal table extended out from the dome, which the doctor directed Kuga to lie on. Beside it, there’s a metal bowl sitting on a movable tray table.

Osamu’s trying his best not to fidget, leaning against the glass window. Since it was a black trigger, one only Kuga could use, the doctors had told them that Kuga would have to lie on the table and deactivate it himself.

Kuga had frowned, pointed out the fact that he’d have to take it off with his right hand (The same hand that was missing, the whole arm, from the elbow down— good god.) and keep holding it while he switched. So they’d brought in the tray so when he triggered off it would drop into the bowl.

Osamu watched as Kuga wrapped his fingers around the ring, hesitated, then carefully pulled it off. As soon as it did it almost seemed like he’d gone slightly… duller. Like there’d always been some faint Trion glow around Kuga that was suddenly gone. Kuga’s finger looked oddly bare without the ring.

It shone in the hospital light, a deep black-red sliced by a sharp white. He was looking at it with a finality that made Osamu nervous. Made his hands twitch against the sill.

Kuga took a long breath and moved his hand so the ring was right above the metal bowl. Red eyes flickered to Osamu and Chika and held them, then back.

“Trigger, off.”

There wasn’t any smoke, no explosion like in the Rank wars or during the invasion. White hair darkened, cracks appeared on his right arm and left leg, the side of his torso broke into a crater, sinking in like it was collapsing into itself. Osamu tried not to flinch when Kuga’s eye suddenly dulled, green lines crossing its surface as it snapped like shards of glass.

And then the Trion shell Kuga had used for four years shattered.

And what was left was—

Red, red everywhere. It was leaking from his limbs, dripping down from the massive hole in his face, a slow growing circle painting itself on the gown. There’s so much of it—he could _see_ so much, exposed tendons and muscles reflecting sharp bright lights and something white—

Kuga slumped back against the table, like someone had cut a puppet’s strings, eyes blank. His chest was barely rising, and he looked so _small._ He heard someone’s sharp intake of breath. It took a second to realise it was his.

_God, oh god, what if this was a mistake—_

The table shifted and slowly moved into the circular structure. He didn’t realise he was twisting the window sill under his grip until it nearly cut his skin. Why was it so slow? Why didn’t it move faster, Kuga was dying—

Red stained black passed the edge of the structure, and he forced himself to let go.

_One._

The clock ticked away.

_Two._

Was he going to be okay?

_Three._

Chika was shaking herself out of her frozen stupor. Hands trembling, she reached over and grabbed his hand.

_Four._

He tightened his hand around hers.

_Five._

The world was frozen, everyone was glued to the structure across the glass. The doctors were crowded around twenty black screens, looking at numbers and letters that meant nothing to him.

_Six._

It’d take ten seconds, they said.

_Seven._

Why wasn’t there a window in the machine? Why couldn’t they see what was happening in there?

_Eight._

Chika’s hand had been slowly tightening on his. He was sure they would both leave with bruises on their hands.

_Nine._

_Kuga._ He thought. _Kuga, please—_

_Ten._

_Live._

*

He woke up.

He breathes out, marvelling at that fact.

He’s alive. And he’s just woken up. For the first time in four years.

Something grows in his chest, good or bad he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s surrounded by soft pillows and blankets and a dry chuckle rings in the air.

It also reminds him of how _dry_ his throat feels. It’s like there’s metal-grade sandpaper grinding it and he’s reminded he technically hasn’t drank in a long, long time. It’s probably not as bad as a coma patient, since his body had been slowed down rather than in an actual coma state, but it still tastes like he’s got an entire desert down his throat.

He pushed himself up, going with his right arm only to stagger when his hand didn’t meet the mattress. He glanced down.

Ah. That’s right, he doesn’t have a hand.

“Kuga?”

“Yuuma-kun?”

He blinked, and then realized that he could only blink his right. His depth of field was skewed—

“Kuga, you alright?”

He turned to the voice. Osamu was sitting beside his bed, green eyes worried behind his glasses. Next to him Chika is clutching the railings of the bed. Almost automatically, Yuuma’s mouth turned into a tired smile.

“G-guess it worked.”

Almost immediately he starts coughing, there’s a hand between his shoulder blades. A cup of water is brought under his nose. “Sip it slowly, Yuuma-kun.”

The water tastes like heaven right now. He has to struggle not to gulp it all down. When he’s done, Chika placed the cup beside the bed. Osamu’s looking at him with a pinched expression. “You feeling alright?”

“Thanks. Good enough, just kind of tired.” Yuuma shrugged and regretted it when he felt a wave of dizziness pass over him. When it passed, Chika’s hovering over him and Osamu is holding him by the shoulder with his brows even more scrunched up then before.

Yuuma grinned, “Do I look that bad?”

Osamu stared at him for a while, then said, “You do look really tired.”

“And um,” Chika hesitated. “your hair is different.”

“...Don’t tell me it’s turned green or something.”

She waves both hands in the air. “No, no it’s not, it’s— um…”

Oh man, was it that werid?

“Here, we can use my phone’s camera—” Osamu gently pushed Yuuma back onto the bed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Yuuma assumed he was talking about that ‘selfie’ function he’d mentioned before and took the phone when it was offered.

“…Huh.”

The first thing he noticed was not, in fact, his hair, but the large amount of bandages wrapped around the left side of his head. His hair stuck out of it in weird directions, reminding him of that one stray that lived near Tamakoma and got into fights with Raijinmaru. He tugged at it a little, finding it wound tightly enough that he didn’t bother trying to open the eye underneath. If he even had one that is.

His hair itself wasn’t yellow or anything, but it wasn’t normal either. Instead, it was black at the roots, at the top of his head, and as it went down to reach his chin and neck it melted into the white he’d gotten used to over the years.

Wasn’t bad per say, but definitely not normal either.

He returned the phone. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You really aren’t hurting anywhere?”

“Nah, just really tired.” He looked down at his torso again, lifting his left hand to gingerly touch at his abdomen. “Man, it really fixed my stomach didn’t it? I’m surprised it managed that at all.”

“I’m glad it did.”

“Yeah, would have sucked otherwise.”

“I’m glad you’re still here, Kuga.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not like back there where they’d rather his dad had lived instead. He’d known that. He’d always known it wasn’t a lie.

There were so many emotions on Osamu’s face, relief and happiness laced with worry. Chika mirrors him in every way. The way they both leaned heavily against the chair said enough about how long they’d been sitting there.

God, Yuuma didn’t deserve it. His dad was dead, was going to stay dead. He’d killed his own dad, how could he ever deserve it?

_“We care about you.”_

_…Damnit all._

“You’re being a real sap right now, Osamu.”

“You’re being too nonchalant.”

“You’re too much of a worry-wart.”

“I think it’s justified.”

“You aren’t allowed to be this unfazed when everyone isn’t, Yuuma-kun.”

“Why are both of you ganging up on me?”

“Because it’s you.” They say at the same time, then blink and stare at each other.

Yuuma chuckled, and soon enough, Chika’s giggling behind her hands while Osamu chokes out an exasperated laugh. His eyes are closed, so he almost jumps when he feels two pairs of arms wrap around his person.

It’s awkward, they have to struggle over the railings of the bed to lean over and hug him and they do it so gingerly, too aware of his healing wounds and the bandages around his face to give any sort of real pressure on his torso. But the warmth around him is real all the same.

“…So Aftokrator?”

“Yeah.”

“After you rest.”

Yuuma’s smile was genuine. “Sure.”

*

When the rest of Tamakoma had returned, and he’d nearly died again from the almost-dogpile-hug everyone had given him, Jin had approached the bed with a sober look on his face.

“Your ring.” Jin slipped it out of his pocket, holding it out to him.

_Dad._

He reached over—had to resist the urge to snatch it right out of Jin’s hands—and cradled it in his left palm.

Such a small thing, the only thing that had kept him alive for four years.

He made to put it on, trying to use one of his fingers to hook it onto his index finger. Chika grabbed the ring when it nearly slipped off his palm, “Hold your hand out, I’ll help you.”

He did as she asked, and carefully, almost reverently, she slipped it back on. He smiled at her in thanks.

Then he closed his one eye, and said, “Trigger, on.”

The rush of power was familiar, the feeling of plated crystal shifting across his body. When he opened his eyes, he could see out of both again, clad in black armor with his arm and leg were back.

A small sound bubbles from his throat. And he almost grabs it in surprise. It’s a laugh. A relieved dry chuckle, almost too broken to be called that.

He’s alive now, he doesn’t need the ring to survive anymore.

_Dad… you still want to work with me?_

“You didn’t give it to HQ?”

“Ah, Kido-san wanted it but well, our director and Shinota-san were on Yuuma’s side here. So we managed to argue that as long as the Black Trigger still works for Yuuma and no one else, Yuuma gets to keep it.”

That’s…close. Too close. They could have easily just taken it right out of his hands and he would never have the ring— _His Dad­—_

He swallows, tries to make his throat a little less dry so it doesn’t bubble with emotion. “Thanks.”

Those words weren’t enough. They really weren’t enough.

“Don’t mention it. Besides, it was all riding on you being able to use the trigger, and well,” He gestured to Yuuma’s now purely white hair. “Hey, it worked.”

“…Yeah.” He ran his restored right hand down the ring. He looked up again, tugging a grin on. “So, I can still fight if I use this during the mission.”

“Aftokrator then.” Chika smiled, Osamu nodding in agreement.

*

When they’d finally taken his bandages off, he’d found that although the eye was intact, it was blind, a cloudy Trion-yellow color for his iris instead of red. It messed up his depth-perception and he was incredibly jumpy over being touched on his right side for a while. Chika and Osamu had helped him practice grabbing items so he could get used to it, and he started paying far more attention to his other senses than before.

The missing limbs were far more difficult to get used to. He kept sitting up or reaching for something before realizing that was the wrong arm or leg. Took him at least two weeks to stop reflexively reaching for something with the missing arm. Even worse was when he would get phantom pains which he would usually try to ignore or shrug off. His friends always read through him anyway, and would hand him some medicine or help him tug on a compression sock to try and relieve it.

When he’d adjusted enough, the doctors had fitted him for a prosthetic leg. He’d gotten two types, a regular one for daily use, and a ‘bladed type’, made for running. If he was going to be stuck in a combat situation without a Trion body, he was probably going to be outclassed and needed to retreat anyway. The month left before they went on Aftokrator was essentially a mad scramble to use them as much as possible. He wasn’t completely comfortable with it yet (Hardly, if he’s honest.) so he would have to rely on his Trion body throughout the mission and hoped he wouldn’t be forced into his living one.

Osamu and Chika hadn’t liked that idea. Took him the majority of the month to convince them to let him go. And to convince the others in Tamakoma. And some string pulling from Jin because, well. Jin was Jin.

They’re on the ship to Aftokrator now, staring out the window into space. In the face of that vast, black sea filled with Neighbour worlds and far away stars, Yuuma thought of the ring on his finger, of the dangers ahead. Of finding Replica and talking to him again. Of the presence of his friends beside him.

He stood on his legs, one real, the other prosthetic, and turned to grin at Osamu and Chika.

“Let’s finish this then.”

The two of them replied his smile with each of their own, a silent agreement passing between them.

_Yeah, they could do this._

In the moments before the ship landed, Yuuma looked up into the stars again, and for the first time in a long, _long_ time, dared to think about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. Thanks for reading again! Any kudos and comments are appreciated.  
> Sorry it's a little late, to be honest I started to loose some steam for this. Originally I was going to include Midorikawa, Kageura and Kou but uh... I've kinda started to slip into a different fandom^^"'  
> Hoping I managed to do Kuga's situation justice, 'he's not exactly full of dreams now, but he's starting to take his first steps towards it' was the kind of thing I was going for at the end.  
> Thanks again for reading! ^^


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